Brian Freemantle: Betrayals

Baxeter did not speak for a long time. Then he said: “Don’t you love me?”

“That isn’t it.”

“That’s all it can be: all it needs to be.”

“That’s making it too simple.”

“John more then?”

“I won’t answer that.”

“You love me!” he shouted.

“Yes.” How could she say that, admit the truth, and feel nothing?

“Then why!”

“I don’t need that: not a feeling of love. I need to feel safe. With John I feel safe. I always have. I could never feel safe, with you.”

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“It doesn’t have to, not to you. All it has to do is make sense to me.”

“You’ll come back,” he said again. “I know you’ll come back.”

J anet visited Sheridan every day, as she’d promised, and was amazed at his visible improvement. By the time of their joint press conference, the gauntness had gone from his face and he’d overcome the tendency to lose concentration, turning inwardly upon himself. The media gathering was still strictly controlled, however. Sheridan gave only a brief description of the brutality during his imprisonment, refusing to elaborate too much because of the distress it might cause relatives and friends of hostages still held in Lebanon. The focus anyway was upon them both. All the questions about their hopes and their marriage that had been put to Janet were repeated and for over an hour they strolled in the embassy grounds, hand in hand and arm in arm and embracing, for the benefit of the camermen.

They were driven directly from the embassy to the airport. On the plane a curtained alcove had been arranged in the first class section, to give them some privacy. The steward offered champagne even before takeoff and they accepted.

“Here’s to us,” toasted Sheridan and Janet replied: “Here’s to us.”

“No more upsets,” promised Sheridan, as the plane climbed, banked over the island, then set its course. “From now on it’s just us, never apart. We’re going to be so happy, darling.”

“I know we are,” said Janet. “So happy.” It had been naive of her to have expected Baxeter to attend the press conference, but she’d hoped he would. She’d wanted very much to see him, just once more. That’s all, though: just once more. She wouldn’t come back: although she might want to, she definitely wouldn’t come back.